I apologize once again for the delay on trip reports. Unexpectedly, I am in Jackson, MS, after receiving a call that my father is dying from acute liver failure.

I never thought it would be Tylenol that brought about my father’s demise. The past three days I’ve been holding the hand of a man who will die from acute liver failure– due to Tylenol. We always suspected it would be the lifetime of drinking–not an over-the-counter pain reliever.

Of course, the man has a case history of liver disease, something that was unknown to me, but it was not something that was going to kill him, because he has ceased heavy drinking for 4 years now. He has relapsed just a few times, supposedly only for a day or two at a time.

However, the presence of liver disease or the consumption of alcohol require that you limit your Tylenol intake to half of the suggested dose.

Now, the suggested dose is in question. The hospital doctors have said told us it is 6-8 grams a day. Tylenol’s website indicates that it is 4grams, as does a bottle. That means 8 pills. My father was taking 10 grams a day, 20 pills, in addition to some ibuprofen. He is in pain from a lot of other physical complications.

Point blank, acetaminophen is dangerous. I’ve been researching it for days. Lobbyists are also dangerous. Lobbyists interfere with petitions that demand bottles containing acetaminophen use specific language to indicate the health threat. Sure, millions of people use the stuff without harm, but thousands annually are developing liver disease from acetaminophen.

“Each year, overdoses of acetaminophen (sold as Tylenol and other brands) account for more than 56,000 emergency room visits and an estimated 458 deaths from acute liver failure, reports the March issue of the Harvard Women’s Health Watch. And according to a new study from the U.S. Acute Liver Failure Study Group, acetaminophen-related liver failure appears to be on the rise

Contributing to the increase were people who were unintentionally taking two or more medications containing acetaminophen. For instance, it is found in headache/pain reliever, but also in sinus and allergy medication.”

Warnings on the generic and name brand bottles read, “ask your doctor,” or “may cause liver damage.”

Now, I may get hit by a car when I jaywalk. It’s not definite. It is proven to be definite that you will develop liver disease from Tylenol when you take more than the recommended amount, especially if you drink a lot of alcohol. Even just socially! This means the warnings should be more direct. Now, tobacco doesn’t kill every user, but enough correlation between tobacco and lung cancer, low fetal birthweight, premature births, and mouth cancer has landed a warning on every pack.

CAUTION: Acetaminophen does cause liver damage if abused.

Do not take more than 4 grams a day, studies show a direct correlation between overdose and liver failure.

Even little non pharmaceutical me can propose the necessary strong language. However, many doctors, scientists, and editoralists were way ahead of me.

“….suggested that a strategy restricting but not banning over-the-counter sales of acetaminophen containing medications may be necessary to prevent accidental overdoses.

This approach was taken in the United Kingdom in 1998, when over-the-counter sales of acetaminophen were restricted to 16 g,” he wrote. “In the four years following the change in legislation there was a 30% reduction in patients with severe acetaminophen-induced acute liver failure admitted to specialist liver units and liver transplant centers.

In France, where only half that much acetaminophen can be bought at one time “this measure is highly effective in minimizing severe acetaminophen hepatotoxicity,” Dr. O’Grady added.”

I suppose it’s one thing when you hear it in the news, and another when you’re feeding mashed potatoes to your jaundiced father and asking if he wants to hold an early birthday party, because he won’t be alive in one month–or even two weeks for the next one.

I guess you could say alcoholism did kill him, because his case history is preventing him from being a candidate for liver transplant. In a discussion yesterday, I asked the doctor if he would be placed at the top of the list for a transplant, based on need. He said yes, IF he qualified, but he doesn’t. He directly said, “a liver is a valuable thing and your father has indicated that his first one was of no value, therefore he doesn’t qualify for a second.”

Well, I’m sure Ted Kennedy could get one if he wanted, even though the doctor has a point. I’m torn though, because it is a free market, right? At what point does the health care industry, proven not to understand addiction, get the final word on whether or not my father truly did recover and is therefore entitled to a new liver?

Either way, I won’t be washing this headache down with Tylenol……

It’s raining here in Maine. My Tour Master rain suit is holding up really well, but not for scooter rides–for dog walks.  We are now officially under a hurricane warning; the first in 17 years. Thankfully, I  squeezed in some riding time before the rains hit. On a nice day ride Thurday, I clocked about 55 miles. That includes getting lost, which all in all, is a pretty nice way to see the state. I’m feeling inspired to finish the remaining blogs for the 08 trip, but meanwhile, I’m getting paid to blog elsewhere.  The ride felt FAST. Wicked fast, almost dangerous. Of course, it rocked.

Today I wrote a guest blog at AOTP, and my approach was inspired by David Foster Wallace’s commencement speech to the graduating class at Kenyon. I connected with it for many reasons; one being that he didn’t come across as anything other than a mellow, well educated guy having a chat with you over a beer, offering advice learned.

It is wisdom ever necessary right now. So I’m posting the speech in its entirety, here. Please, go read the AOTP article, help make sure I can keep my writing gig over there by leaving some comments. (desperate, I know)

Is this appropriate conduct, this reposting in entirety? Hmm? Well, I’ll just keep it up until someone asks me to take it down. Fair enough, right?

START

There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, “Morning, boys, how’s the water?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, “What the hell is water?”

If at this moment, you’re worried that I plan to present myself here as the wise old fish explaining what water is to you younger fish, please don’t be. I am not the wise old fish. The immediate point of the fish story is that the most obvious, ubiquitous, important realities are often the ones that are the hardest to see and talk about. Stated as an English sentence, of course, this is just a banal platitude — but the fact is that, in the day-to-day trenches of adult existence, banal platitudes can have life-or-death importance. That may sound like hyperbole, or abstract nonsense.

A huge percentage of the stuff that I tend to be automatically certain of is, it turns out, totally wrong and deluded. Here’s one example of the utter wrongness of something I tend to be automatically sure of: Everything in my own immediate experience supports my deep belief that I am the absolute center of the universe, the realest, most vivid and important person in existence. We rarely talk about this sort of natural, basic self-centeredness, because it’s so socially repulsive, but it’s pretty much the same for all of us, deep down. It is our default-setting, hard-wired into our boards at birth. Think about it: There is no experience you’ve had that you were not at the absolute center of. The world as you experience it is right there in front of you, or behind you, to the left or right of you, on your TV, or your monitor, or whatever. Other people’s thoughts and feelings have to be communicated to you somehow, but your own are so immediate, urgent, real — you get the idea. But please don’t worry that I’m getting ready to preach to you about compassion or other-directedness or the so-called “virtues.” This is not a matter of virtue — it’s a matter of my choosing to do the work of somehow altering or getting free of my natural, hard-wired default-setting, which is to be deeply and literally self-centered, and to see and interpret everything through this lens of self.

People who can adjust their natural default-setting this way are often described as being “well adjusted,” which I suggest to you is not an accidental term.

Given the triumphal academic setting here, an obvious question is how much of this work of adjusting our default-setting involves actual knowledge or intellect. This question gets tricky. Probably the most dangerous thing about college education, at least in my own case, is that it enables my tendency to over-intellectualize stuff, to get lost in abstract arguments inside my head instead of simply paying attention to what’s going on right in front of me. Paying attention to what’s going on inside me. As I’m sure you guys know by now, it is extremely difficult to stay alert and attentive instead of getting hypnotized by the constant monologue inside your own head. Twenty years after my own graduation, I have come gradually to understand that the liberal-arts cliché about “teaching you how to think” is actually shorthand for a much deeper, more serious idea: “Learning how to think” really means learning how to exercise some control over how and what you think. It means being conscious and aware enough to choose what you pay attention to and to choose how you construct meaning from experience. Because if you cannot exercise this kind of choice in adult life, you will be totally hosed. Think of the old cliché about “the mind being an excellent servant but a terrible master.” This, like many clichés, so lame and unexciting on the surface, actually expresses a great and terrible truth. It is not the least bit coincidental that adults who commit suicide with firearms almost always shoot themselves in the head. And the truth is that most of these suicides are actually dead long before they pull the trigger. And I submit that this is what the real, no-bull- value of your liberal-arts education is supposed to be about: How to keep from going through your comfortable, prosperous, respectable adult life dead, unconscious, a slave to your head and to your natural default-setting of being uniquely, completely, imperially alone, day in and day out.

That may sound like hyperbole, or abstract nonsense. So let’s get concrete. The plain fact is that you graduating seniors do not yet have any clue what “day in, day out” really means. There happen to be whole large parts of adult American life that nobody talks about in commencement speeches. One such part involves boredom, routine, and petty frustration. The parents and older folks here will know all too well what I’m talking about.

“The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day.”

By way of example, let’s say it’s an average day, and you get up in the morning, go to your challenging job, and you work hard for nine or ten hours, and at the end of the day you’re tired, and you’re stressed out, and all you want is to go home and have a good supper and maybe unwind for a couple of hours and then hit the rack early because you have to get up the next day and do it all again. But then you remember there’s no food at home — you haven’t had time to shop this week, because of your challenging job — and so now after work you have to get in your car and drive to the supermarket. It’s the end of the workday, and the traffic’s very bad, so getting to the store takes way longer than it should, and when you finally get there the supermarket is very crowded, because of course it’s the time of day when all the other people with jobs also try to squeeze in some grocery shopping, and the store’s hideously, fluorescently lit, and infused with soul-killing Muzak or corporate pop, and it’s pretty much the last place you want to be, but you can’t just get in and quickly out: You have to wander all over the huge, overlit store’s crowded aisles to find the stuff you want, and you have to maneuver your junky cart through all these other tired, hurried people with carts, and of course there are also the glacially slow old people and the spacey people and the ADHD kids who all block the aisle and you have to grit your teeth and try to be polite as you ask them to let you by, and eventually, finally, you get all your supper supplies, except now it turns out there aren’t enough checkout lanes open even though it’s the end-of-the-day-rush, so the checkout line is incredibly long, which is stupid and infuriating, but you can’t take your fury out on the frantic lady working the register.

Anyway, you finally get to the checkout line’s front, and pay for your food, and wait to get your check or card authenticated by a machine, and then get told to “Have a nice day” in a voice that is the absolute voice of death, and then you have to take your creepy flimsy plastic bags of groceries in your cart through the crowded, bumpy, littery parking lot, and try to load the bags in your car in such a way that everything doesn’t fall out of the bags and roll around in the trunk on the way home, and then you have to drive all the way home through slow, heavy, SUV-intensive rush-hour traffic, etcetera, etcetera.

The point is that petty, frustrating crap like this is exactly where the work of choosing comes in. Because the traffic jams and crowded aisles and long checkout lines give me time to think, and if I don’t make a conscious decision about how to think and what to pay attention to, I’m going to be pissed and miserable every time I have to food-shop, because my natural default-setting is the certainty that situations like this are really all about me, about my hungriness and my fatigue and my desire to just get home, and it’s going to seem, for all the world, like everybody else is just in my way, and who are all these people in my way? And look at how repulsive most of them are and how stupid and cow-like and dead-eyed and nonhuman they seem here in the checkout line, or at how annoying and rude it is that people are talking loudly on cell phones in the middle of the line, and look at how deeply unfair this is: I’ve worked really hard all day and I’m starved and tired and I can’t even get home to eat and unwind because of all these stupid g-d- people.

Or, of course, if I’m in a more socially conscious form of my default-setting, I can spend time in the end-of-the-day traffic jam being angry and disgusted at all the huge, stupid, lane-blocking SUV’s and Hummers and V-12 pickup trucks burning their wasteful, selfish, forty-gallon tanks of gas, and I can dwell on the fact that the patriotic or religious bumper stickers always seem to be on the biggest, most disgustingly selfish vehicles driven by the ugliest, most inconsiderate and aggressive drivers, who are usually talking on cell phones as they cut people off in order to get just twenty stupid feet ahead in a traffic jam, and I can think about how our children’s children will despise us for wasting all the future’s fuel and probably screwing up the climate, and how spoiled and stupid and disgusting we all are, and how it all just sucks, and so on and so forth…

Look, if I choose to think this way, fine, lots of us do — except that thinking this way tends to be so easy and automatic it doesn’t have to be a choice. Thinking this way is my natural default-setting. It’s the automatic, unconscious way that I experience the boring, frustrating, crowded parts of adult life when I’m operating on the automatic, unconscious belief that I am the center of the world and that my immediate needs and feelings are what should determine the world’s priorities. The thing is that there are obviously different ways to think about these kinds of situations. In this traffic, all these vehicles stuck and idling in my way: It’s not impossible that some of these people in SUV’s have been in horrible auto accidents in the past and now find driving so traumatic that their therapist has all but ordered them to get a huge, heavy SUV so they can feel safe enough to drive; or that the Hummer that just cut me off is maybe being driven by a father whose little child is hurt or sick in the seat next to him, and he’s trying to rush to the hospital, and he’s in a way bigger, more legitimate hurry than I am — it is actually I who am in his way. Or I can choose to force myself to consider the likelihood that everyone else in the supermarket’s checkout line is just as bored and frustrated as I am, and that some of these people probably have much harder, more tedious or painful lives than I do, overall.

Again, please don’t think that I’m giving you moral advice, or that I’m saying you’re “supposed to” think this way, or that anyone expects you to just automatically do it, because it’s hard, it takes will and mental effort, and if you’re like me, some days you won’t be able to do it, or you just flat-out won’t want to. But most days, if you’re aware enough to give yourself a choice, you can choose to look differently at this fat, dead-eyed, over-made-lady who just screamed at her little child in the checkout line — maybe she’s not usually like this; maybe she’s been up three straight nights holding the hand of her husband who’s dying of bone cancer, or maybe this very lady is the low-wage clerk at the Motor Vehicles Dept. who just yesterday helped your spouse resolve a nightmarish red-tape problem through some small act of bureaucratic kindness. Of course, none of this is likely, but it’s also not impossible — it just depends on what you want to consider. If you’re automatically sure that you know what reality is and who and what is really important — if you want to operate on your default-setting — then you, like me, will not consider possibilities that aren’t pointless and annoying. But if you’ve really learned how to think, how to pay attention, then you will know you have other options. It will actually be within your power to experience a crowded, loud, slow, consumer-hell-type situation as not only meaningful but sacred, on fire with the same force that lit the stars — compassion, love, the sub-surface unity of all things. Not that that mystical stuff’s necessarily true: The only thing that’s capital-T True is that you get to decide how you’re going to try to see it. You get to consciously decide what has meaning and what doesn’t. You get to decide what to worship…

Because here’s something else that’s true. In the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And an outstanding reason for choosing some sort of God or spiritual-type thing to worship — be it J.C. or Allah, be it Yahweh or the Wiccan mother-goddess or the Four Noble Truths or some infrangible set of ethical principles — is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things — if they are where you tap real meaning in life — then you will never have enough. Never feel you have enough. It’s the truth. Worship your own body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly, and when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally plant you. On one level, we all know this stuff already — it’s been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, bromides, epigrams, parables: the skeleton of every great story. The trick is keeping the truth up-front in daily consciousness. Worship power — you will feel weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to keep the fear at bay. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart — you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. And so on.

Look, the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they’re evil or sinful; it is that they are unconscious. They are default-settings. They’re the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that’s what you’re doing. And the world will not discourage you from operating on your default-settings, because the world of men and money and power hums along quite nicely on the fuel of fear and contempt and frustration and craving and the worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom to be lords of our own tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation. This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of winning and achieving and displaying. The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day. That is real freedom. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default-setting, the “rat race” — the constant gnawing sense of having had and lost some infinite thing.

I know that this stuff probably doesn’t sound fun and breezy or grandly inspirational. What it is, so far as I can see, is the truth with a whole lot of rhetorical bullshit pared away. Obviously, you can think of it whatever you wish. But please don’t dismiss it as some finger-wagging Dr. Laura sermon. None of this is about morality, or religion, or dogma, or big fancy questions of life after death. The capital-T Truth is about life before death. It is about making it to 30, or maybe 50, without wanting to shoot yourself in the head. It is about simple awareness — awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, that we have to keep reminding ourselves, over and over: “This is water, this is water.”

It is unimaginably hard to do this, to stay conscious and alive, day in and day out.

Did you know that today, September 21st, we celebrate an International Day of Peace?
This particular global day of Peace is especially significant because the Peace sign turned 50 this year.
The United Nations General Assembly declared that this day be devoted to commemorating and strengthening the ideals of peace.

It must be said that the “ideals of Peace,” can only reflect the cultural diversity of all humans inhabiting our planet.

For some, Peace today might mean their house doesn’t get blown to rubble, their child murdered and wife raped. For some, Peace will be a return to God after committing a horrible terrorist act in his name. It is difficult to conceive of a universal definition of Peace when each country faces obstacles beyond our immediate perspective. It is more difficult to conceive of this definition of Peace when we see such tiny effort from our global leaders to cultivate Peace.

The possibility of Peace seems quite overwhelming. Peace making isn’t easy. Quite simply, sometimes it’s hard to solve old problems with new tools.  The thing we need to focus on the most is peace building; how to create and maintain a culture of Peace for our future–our grandchildrens future. Just because it is difficult to resolve old conflicts with new emerging intellect/consciousness does not mean Peace is impossible.

There are many actions occurring today, nationally and worldwide. CLICK over to the official website to find a local event. Send a text message to a world leader–and let it rip! You can send in your video responses to this website.

And don’t forget–I’ve been looking for your definition of Peace for a long time. Do your part today by leaving your definition of Peace here.

Me? I’ll be participating in a 12 noon Peace meditation; every time zone around the globe is participating at 12noon. (their time)  And then you can find me on the zooming around on the scooter!

John sent this photo to me on the perfect day. Peter and Amy have maintained the Peace sign I mowed into their lawn back in June. It looks great, definitely nicer than mine(the 2nd photo), which I mowed into the lawn on Thursday. Then again, their 5 million dollar home overlooking the Pacific was far nicer than mine too……

Peace-Alix

So where has my scooter been for 6 weeks? Did anything happen to it?
Nope. Something happened to my sanity without having it to ride for 6 weeks, but that’s another story. Today I was reunited with Audre.
As a flashback for y’all, my trip started and ended in Washington D.C. and my family and friends were still in VA. That meant I was still 1,000 miles from Maine, where I moved before the trip.

My partner and the kid met me at the finish line and wanted me to ride home with them. Understood. That and I was exhausted. I felt pretty lucky I just covered 22,683 miles without incident. I didn’t want to push my luck–I started imagining a crappy ending to the whole thing. I was told to ship it home and so I did.

That said, today J showed up at the house, heard the situation and got N to loan me his truck. 3 hours later I was in Boston. They loaded the crate into the truck. 3 hours later we were back home and dove into the crate.

MAD PROPS TO SCOOT RICHMOND. They are heroic. They built a crate to withstand a hurricane. They said I would need a crowbar–but really it took a drill. After popping off one side, there she was–Audre.

And she was nestled in so snug, with brilliant reinforcement at every compromising point. Really, the thought that went into the crate was obvious–topped off with two huge spray painted Peace signs.

On top of it, I find a glove compartment organizer decked out with Peace signs, a surprise from Rob Taylor. THANKS ROB!!!

The four of us realized that even if we tossed the crate out of the truckbed–the contents would be fine. But, of course, we just gingerly slid the back end off, and then drove the truck forward for the remaining part to slide off. Easy Peasey.

20 minutes later, after sawing through the reinforcements and releasing the tires–Audre was free.

I checked the oil, poured in some gas. Tried to start her–no diggity.
I checked the fuel valve and it was undone. Put it together, tightened the clamps. Attempted start again, no luck.

For some reason, after loosening the nut above the fuel valve, she started.

And the back tire spun like a caged Kentucky Derby horse pawing the ground. After a 10 minute warm up–the jacket, gloves, and helmet were on and we were off.

It was a chilly, short and BLISSFUL ride home. So good to finally have all my things in one place. It’s the first time I’ve ridden here in Maine, and I’m glad to have a couple weeks of decent weather left to explore.

N was also a hero today, probably because he rides a motorcycle and can empathize with my withdrawals–he helped unload tonight. Did the majority of it actually.

I think he wants me to teach his lady to ride my scooter so she can get one!!!!
Thanks Scoot Richmond. That was an impressive piece of work!
Look forward to those final posts–I’ve had writers block without the scoot!
Finally, all is good again.

The economy hit a new low this week, and in every part of the country, people are feeling it. The recent financial disasters — from the collapse of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac to the historic drop in the stock market — are not just a string of bad luck. They are the result of years of bad decisions made in favor of big corporate special interests instead of America’s working families.

More than 600,000 Americans have lost their jobs since January. Home foreclosures are skyrocketing, and home values are plunging. Gas prices are at an all-time high, and we’re still spending more than $10 billion every month on a war in Iraq that should never have been waged.

John McCain’s campaign is doing everything it can to focus attention on false personal attacks and distractions — but there’s too much at stake for that kind of politics.

I need your help to get the conversation back on track.

I’m placing this video up and finally taking a stand for my Presidential choice. This ad touches on sentiments that I’ve been expressing for years; we want change, we are working for it and it isn’t all about survival of the fittest–it’s about working together.
Sure, it’s a political ad. It’s glossy, it’s emotional. But it takes observation, intuitiveness and a genuine being to recognize these sentiments which pulse through our country–however unheard and disregarded they often are.

It’s getting close to that time, ladies and gents. Time to make a decision, time to encourage your fellow human citizens to also make the best choice. Mine is Obama.
We can talk more about that.

Debunking the idea that only celebrities deserve interviews and posing the age-old question of “which came first–the chicken or the egg?,”–the Great Interview Experiment was born. It happened because Neil Kramer, whose blog is called Citizen of the Month, believes everyone deserves an interview. It’s easy. You sign up and the person ahead of you interviews you and you interview the person who signs up after you. Easy Peasey.

My interview with Jen, who authors the 12 step closer blog, went live today. If you want to know more about me and P.E.A.C.E SCOOTER, go check it out.

In other news, I heard my scooter is making its way home to me, sometime next week. This means I will actually have some nice days left to explore my new home state of Maine!!! And it means Marco will get a reprieve.

A guest post I wrote over at The Art of the Possible.

On September 4th I finally decided how to cast my November vote. With McCain’s VP choice, the stakes have risen, as have, ridiculously, the polls in favor of the duo, err…pretty lady. It’s as much about Palindrone being underqualified to serve the position as it is the Republican party being overqualified at manipulation of, and marketing, to the people.

In the nine days just passed, I kept a journal of events that inspired, shocked, disgusted and quite honestly scared the hell out of me. And it’s not just the Elephants that scare me, it’s the herd which applaud their trumpet.

Read more HERE:

Have you ever heard of freecycle? Oh, it can be a great place to get stuff out of your house, as well as bring stuff into your house. And it’s all free! It’s the equivalent of  getting and giving gifts, with total strangers! In bigger cities, it works well, but in my town, it’s mainly junk. There are more WANTED ads than OFFERS.

But our landlord rightfully seized back his dining room table the other day, so I posted WANTED: a dining room table for 6, in Auburn.

Below is the correspondence I sent off this morning–to the person who wrote me asking if I want TO BUY her dining room table. Ah! The nerve! The blatant disrespect for freecycle values! Arghhhh!

D says that my response was too harsh. Sure, I hadn’t had coffee yet, aka my meds, but my response came from my heart. I don’t think it needed to be filtered and I sure wish we did speak like this to our friends, family and strangers–because when we lack accountability–we wind up needing governance. And time has shown that those who govern–don’t always have our interest in mind.

CORRESPONDENCE:   

me to Laurie Mayhew:   

Thanks for writing. Your table sounds nice, but it’s out of my price range, which is why I posted on freecycle. I’m not sure if you are aware, but:
Freecycle� is for posting FREE items only. No selling or trading of items is allowed.

Like many situations here in our country, we can’t think to bend the rules just in our favor.  Rules are there to govern the masses, no matter how big, small, or relevant.  Otherwise, if 2,000 individuals think it’s ok, then the next day, 6,000 think it’s ok, and before you know it, no one is respecting the rules. I’ve been tempted to post or approach someone about something for sale. BUT I DON”T because it’s FREECYCLE.

Respectfully,
Alix

Laurie Mayhew to me:

— On Wed, 9/3/08, Laurie Mayhew <transcription101@yahoo.com> wrote:
From: Laurie Mayhew <transcription101@yahoo.com>
Subject: Re: LA Freecycle(TM) WANTED: Dining Room Table that seats 6 in Auburn
To: “Alix B.” <fluidattitude@yahoo.com>
Date: Wednesday, September 3, 2008, 7:44 PM

I have a farmers style dinning room table in good shape it is 4 years old but still very solid, it has 4 chairs and a bench.  the top is cherry and the bottom is hunter green I have downsized and am looking to get rid of it, I would be willing to take 125.00 for it

Original ad:—

On Wed, 9/3/08, Alix B. <fluidattitude@yahoo.com> wrote:
From: Alix B. <fluidattitude@yahoo.com>
Subject: LA Freecycle(TM) WANTED: Dining Room Table that seats 6 in Auburn
To: LA_Freecycle@yahoogroups.com
Date: Wednesday, September 3, 2008, 11:30 AM

Our family is in Auburn, we were using the landlords but he just took
it back. Please, we will travel to pick it up. Thanks a lot!

________________________________________________

Thoughts?

Check out freecycle--create an account and help make sure perfectly good stuff doesn’t get thrown into the landfils!

Ugh, I’ve been so busy at work. I enjoy what I’m doing at least. And I’ve started getting income to blog HERE, so that’s nice.

I just learned a little lesson about the best laid plans and I thought I would share my frustration/sadness here.

On Friday, the family adopted a dog who came with the name Sammy. We decided to call her Sammy Smith, an apt explorers name to compliment our other dog’s name, Marco Polo.

Sammy is an adorable mutt, a unique little hybrid between dachshund and mini pinscher with a painted face. The family here consists of me, my partner and a nine year old that I’m gonna call Lil C. After some discussion we had decided that Marco could benefit from a canine sidekick, and that we could all handle the added responsibility.

Well, Sammy is gone already. So much for being great at helping special need animals. We had her a record breaking 3 hours before she made her big escape.

Just as your events in your life helped define who you are, the past three years of little Sammy’s life have shaped her. Our adopted dog was recently saved in a puppy mill raid. Have you heard about those awful places? They are the canine equivalents of the child sex trade. Sammy was squashed into a teeny little crate with three other dogs and pimped into birthing three litters of puppies by her third year.

She was never handled by humans in a way other than rough. No biscuits. No walks. No cuddles. No squirrel chasing. No toys.

We were enthusiastic about giving her a whole new life. But we were warned not to spoil her. She needed discipline. No worries, we thought. Even amid the discipline and training, we would warm her numb heart. It’s not that easy with people. It’s not that easy with dogs, either.

But it seemed like we were off to a good start. There was butt sniffing and tail wagging from Marco Polo. Then she came home with us and went near his water bowl. Mr. Dominant had a fit. No big deal, we thought, everyone is adjusting. I cooked dinner with Sammy lodged firmly between my legs. She hesitantly took treats from our hands and acted goofy–somehow perching her skinny body onto the window ledge.

We were all in training.

No matter how she cuddled up to us, any fast approach left her cowering. Approach slowly and from the front, say her name, let her sniff the hand, don’t crouch–these were our mantras. It was time for her first walk, to get her on Marco’s schedule.

Lil C wanted the honors. She can’t handle Marco, who is a lightweight, but with muscles of titanium and a stubborness to match–not to mention a squirrel radar that kicks in without notice. Cheerfully, our brigade set out around the block. Marco in front, ignoring the new dog. Sammy in back, a super spastic walker, reminding me of the erratic pattern a full balloon takes when the air is released.

And cheerfully we returned home. Sammy seemed hesitant to come in, then she erratically lunged inside. This startled Marco and he kinda went at her. So as I stepped forward to head that off, she suddenly turned and beelined it out the door. How little legs move that fast is beyond me. My ninja reaction time still didn’t thwart her escape and so off I went into the night. At the end of the block, I came around a corner and headed her off. She peeped out of the bushes, took a look at me, and went dashing back into the night.

Damn.

Our dog has now been lost for 72 hours. Friday turned into Saturday as we tentatively crawled through thickets, which housed skunks and cats, but no Sammy.

We were putting up signs today when the clerk said they had seen her! She gave us the exact address and we hauled butt over there. It’s infuriating to have just missed the dog! And I can’t believe that people were unable to approach her–she is dragging her blue leash, for chrissakes.

I’m getting really scared–that location was only 1 mile from my house–that’s as far as she could go in 48 hours. Poor gal, scared as heck, with no water or food.  Now it’s going on 72 hours. I can’t stop scanning the roads for her.

Well of course I feel horrible.

Afterall I should have closed the door completely. But we all know better than to place blame. Every time I sit on the porch for a smoke, my gaze goes over to break in the fence where she made her exodus. I’m recognizing that I don’t have the quickest emotional response to situations. I don’t think I’m as numb as Sammy, but I can’t figure out if it’s bad not to cry about this. Then again, no one else in the family has shed a tear…but…but…they’re just yankees….

But I know that inside we are all bummed.

Lil C was first to wonder why Sammy would leave behind such a nice house.

Shoot, people rarely take the first hand offered to them.

When you become accustomed to a way of life, the alternatives are daunting, even if they are better. And how many of you have tried to reason with addicts?
Healing takes time and repetition. I wish we had more time to defrost her reserve. Hopefully she will turn up and that can happen.

It’s been rough lately–my scooter STILL ISN’T HERE and I’m watching all the nice weather slip away–and now THIS.

Please keep checking back for updates and trip stats.

This blog will be kept active, most def.

I’ve been really hard at work-to earn some money. You know, the real world where I can’t scoot everyday and I have to pay rent.

Grrrrr….

Peace

Now that I am finally home and processing the journey, there has been time to catch up on politics and policy through blogs, diaries and video.

When I hit play on Mccain’s ad, the Summer of Love, every other sound in the house and neighborhood faded into a distant hum. Transfixed by the manipulation of Obama’s campaign message of hope and change, as well as the patriotism of the 60’s generation, I hit play again. Repeat.

Mark, blogging for News Corpse, offers an acute psychological assessment of the ad. Of course, anyone with sound mind recognizes McCain doesn’t have one. Sure, that’s snarky, but honestly, at this juncture we should be traveling upward in our evolution and I’ve simply had enough of those in power who prohibit it.
The article acknowledges the gravity of being a prisoner of war, while drawing the important conclusion that while McCains’ sacrifice was commendable, it is precisely the thing that restrains him.

“The fact that McCain cannot recognize the importance of that era, and the contributions of citizens who lived through it, is representative of a larger problem for him. The time he spent in captivity was a defining time for those of us back home. There were so many socially profound events that altered just about everyone who lived through them. John McCain was not one of them. The history that shaped millions of Americans, McCain only heard about secondhand, after the fact.”

So it may not be so surprising that McCain is trapped in a time warp, unable to relate to a country and world that shared these tumultuous experiences, but from which he was excluded. It may explain his hostility to a generation that was arguably more engaged in public service and community activism than any generation before or since.”

The article’s author was able to extrapolate on the sickening in my stomach. I am infuriated by this recurring implication that those involved in peaceful civic engagement do not share the same love of country as those who use weapons to fight for it. These antiquated ideas are still embedded deeply in the American consciousness and often interfere with our ability to apply new approaches to old problems. I see it in our leaders and I have seen it in thousands of my fellow countrymen-regardless of age.

“The announcer declares it a time of “uncertainty, hope and change,” skillfully associating uncertainty with two words that have become iconic within Barack Obama’s campaign. It then proceeds to insult an entire generation by asserting that McCain had “another kind of love - of country,” thereby implying that young Americans in the 60’s and 70’s were less than patriotic. As one of them I can assure you that it wasn’t because we hated our country that we dedicated ourselves to peace, civil rights, and free expression. Are those unpatriotic aspirations?”

What I have found is that all humans have very similar needs, convoluted by the various strategies by which we obtain them. Not only am I disenchanted by political leaders who make it difficult to navigate what many see as an obtainable common ground, but also by the leaders of so called progressive movements.

To finish reading this article, check out the website the art of the possible. This is the first article out of many that I will blog for them about my thoughts on the Peace movement!

Obnoxious video in question:

Ok, I think the recovery period has passed. I’m still incredibly sore, but those wounds should probably be licked in private. I will warn those thinking about riding 11,000 miles in 3 months-you will hurt. But, I have now slept 8 hours a night for three nights, and I feel kinda shiny again.

I’ve come home to lotsa mail, how kind. Thanks to those who sent in the postcards. Turns out that I have some left and if you would like a bunch, let me know. Scott, who helped run Birmingham Community Kitchens, wrote me a wonderful letter and included a check. Did you join the ride late in the game? Scott is in this video.

So, Maine. There was a balloon festival here this weekend. It apparently is the pinnacle of summer and now there is nothing left but a looming winter. Wow. I’m frightened and excited. Snow will be neat.

But, In the South, we still have months of mint juleps, BBQ’s and porch stooping. Last night the temperature dropped to 55 degrees. I hope the scooter gets here soon, so I can show it off in a mainly Harley Davidson town, before everyone begins hibernation.

How I wish I had just driven it home. Now that I’ve rested, this seems possible. 10 days ago,  I couldn’t have imagined another 800 miles.

I just wanted to get off the road before anything happened to me. Covering 22,000 miles without incident on a little scooter is miraculous.

Well, I’m up and at ‘em. Now that I’ve spent a substantial amount of time eating, sleeping, and watching movies. My favorite thing about being home, aside from the lady and the dog, is making food whenever I want, without waiting in line for someone to sloooooowly construct my sandwich.

I’ve started research for my series of articles on the Peace movement, which will be featured at theartofthepossible.net starting Saturday. Seems like there is a enough opinion that there is NO movement to help bolster my own claims.

In between blogging, the library (got my new card), the YMCA (just joined) and dog walking-I’ve got things to keep me busy until Audre arrives back home.

For photos of the Scoot Richmond Finale, click on the photo below:

(c)PJ Sykes

I must say. People in this country can not drive! After 800 miles on the interstate, we came up with a plan. There will be a cell phone lane created on the Interstates. People will pay to drive in them. Said lane will have guard rails on both sides.  The “cell phone tax” will cover the use of public servants (police, EMT’s, firetrucks) to remove the injured from the lane.

The rest of us can proceed down the road with a new relief that swerving vehicles, manned by people having meaningless conversation, will be sequestered to their own lane.

Perhaps 22,000 miles of backroad travel made me very anxious on the Interstate. Regardless, I’m so thankful to be home.

We rushed back to Maine. The plan had been to explore Washington D.C. a little more and visit longer with friends in Charlottesville, VA. We all missed my dog, Marco Polo.

The final big bang happened at Scoot Richmond. I owe Chelsea many thanks, perhaps for many lifetimes to come. She has my unlimited devotion.

There were quite a few people there to celebrate with me; old friends of mine as well as many scooterists.  Even Matt was there, from D.C., the guy who rode the final mile with me.The real guests of honor were Scooter and Ed, of the Genuine Love Bus fame. Chelsea thought it would be a nice surprise for me to meet Genuine’s other roadwarriors. I chuckled because there is something just so great about a company having both Peace and Love on the road.

After having managed to narrowly miss Ed and Scooter all summer long, it was nice to meet the legends. Ed took over as event photographer, thankfully. I think he said, “stick a fork in  her, she’s done.” Hear, hear. I was so completely beat that I don’t remember most of the party or the interviews. Thankfully, Dave Mangano’s podcast interview turned out just fine. Even after 5 celebratory beverages. I loved that my old friends finally got the chance to catch up with my scooterist friends.

Audre, my scooter, will be shipped home to Maine. I’m already itching to ride. It was a sad goodbye.

The next day was spent with my best friend, Jessica, and her new hubbie Stephen. Then on to Mom’s house, so that I could get a lecture. She told me I looked like crap. My Mom is very sick and our time together right now means a lot to me, especially now that I’ve relocated to Maine.  Karen, who represents the Department of Peace, donated her Marriott rewards points to us.  This gave us good beds to catch up on sleep and a nice pool for refreshing splashes in between visits.

Before P.E.A.C.E Scooter I would spend once a month in costume for a ladies arm wrestling league-better known as CLAW. Proceeds raised during the two hour sports performance went to local charities. And we are talking about 2,000 buck-a-roos in 2 hours! It was cool to stand in the audience and watch the drama, while catching up with my many incredible C-ville friends. I guarantee you’ve never before seen anything like this action. Tragedy Ann won the match and proceeds went to Food not Bombs.

Before the match, we all got together with Team LaLaLa. I love them and feel fortunate that they are both my friends and bosses.
There is a lot of work ahead, as I rarely managed to get in 5 hours a week while on the road. Team LaLaLa wrote the code for The Second Road website, which hired me to talent scout bloggers who write about recovery. It’s a great project and I want to help them succeed. Lawrence also gave me my first real writing gig, on his website, The Art of the Possible. I will be blogging once a week about my views on the Peace movement.

On the way back to Maine, we stopped at Kings Dominion. At first this seemed like a brilliant idea, especially to help ease the burden of a 14 hour drive home. On all of us, but mostly the nine year old. It was a good time, but I woke up the next day feeling hit by a train. I felt old. The adrenalin rush from upside down, triple-helix curve, plummeting hill rollercoasters  was more than my body could stand after 98 days on a vibrating machine.

We arrived back in Maine just in time to see the first hot air balloons launch for the weekend festival.

Currently, my room is a vortex of boxes sent home, mail, gear and general chaos. There were many thoughtful letters waiting here for me-thank you to those who wrote and sent in donations. In the next week I’ve got some checks to write to the chosen non profits! I finally chose newdream.org as the environmental organization recipient.

Please check them out, they seem to really comprehend the links between improving quality of life, protecting the environment and promoting social justice.

So that’s the scoop. This is a week of organization and long dog walks. I’ve got some more updates on the way, so STAY TUNED!

Untitled from Alix Bryan on Vimeo.
Prizes & Winners (drum roll please…) Congratulations!

1. Ipod Nano: Gary Martin

2. Vintage Helmet:  Shane Wilson

3. Messenger Bag: Eric Almendral

4. Genuine Workshirt: Deborah Bishop

5. D.O.T Flip Flops Shirt: Jay Monteverde

6. Corazzo Gloves: Charles Leib

7. P.E.A.C.E. Scooter T-shirt: Deborah Bishop

8. Keychains: Samuel Fischer & Ed Hitchcock

9. San Francisco ScooterGirls 2008 Calendar: Daniel Tilton

Go ahead…buy a ticket. So far, the gamblin types have helped raise almost 9,000 buck- a- roos.
This is it. The one. Raffle rsults will be drawn live from Scoot Richmond, on 08/09/08, and posted the next day.
Prizes have grown throughout the week.
Much like my butt after 22k miles….

Currently there is a Nano, 2 shirts and keychains in the pot.
As well as,
Leather Corazzo gloves (your choice in size, they will ship)

HCI vintage style helmet (your choice in color/size, they will ship)

San Francisco Scooter Girls Calendar (yes, 25% new, but those pics are 100% classy)

Messenger Bag, Scooterworks

Superhot 2stroke Buzz shirt that I totally want to keep for myself.

To enter:
www.peacescooter.com/raffles

*so far 5,600 has been raised STRICTLY for charitable donation.*

It occurs to me that I should officially post about the victory group ride and BBQ. Two events which can only represent one thing. I’m here in D.C.

Peace has been put on the map.

I’m the first to admit that there is a noticeable gap in the blog-from Chicago to D.C.
Well, stay tuned. I’ll tell you all about finally meeting Philip McCaleb and the whole Genuine/Scooterworks crew, as well as the Fourth Gear rally in Detriot, Lake Eerie antics and a visit with an old friend in Pittsburgh.

I left Pittsburgh at 3:30pm on Wendsday, not sure how far I would go until stopping. D.C. was only 270 miles, but I allowed myself plenty of time, figuring if anything went wrong, it would be in this homestretch.

It was a truly surreal ride.

The Allegheny mountains were an unexpected, beautiful sight to behold. Everything was luscious, green and reminded me of home. My GPS is so wacky, and it led me to an interstate, right where the old turnpike converged with Interstate 68. But I went with it and rolled along for 60 miles, up and down steep mountains. I managed to cross into 3 states, Maryland, West Virginia, and then my home, Virginia.
D.C. only 80 miles away, I stopped for the night, driving  an hour into the evening.

VIRGINIA! How beautiful to return home and see the land for the first time. Never in my 34 years have I tooled around those roads! Simply gorgeous! With GOOD ROADS TO BOOT! A dank, earthy night smell, mixed with honeysuckle, filled my senses,

I could barely unpack my bags. It was late afternoon before I could even get out of bed. I’m whupped, but ecstatic.

I’ve done it! What was a dream 14 months ago is now real! We can all rest well knowing that a 22,000 mile Peace sign is on the map. It looks like a four year old scribbled it there, but the stories are wise. I still have so much to tell you!

But, wow, stop and think about it! 22,600 miles later, traveling roads that aren’t fit for a scooter, I’ve done it, carved a huge Peace sign onto the map!

Right now I’m at Union Station. Daphne is coming into town, with Lil C. I had a quiet moment alone at the White House, arriving at 5pm. Just the same as July 15, 2007. At this moment in my life, the White House is only symbol. The fate of our nation depends on the desires in our hearts and the demands we voice. I started here in D.C. as a declaration that our fate depends on us, not just those in charge.

Tomorrow will be a much louder day. At noon, a group will leave from Vespa Arlington, to join me in a victory lap. On Saturday, I will be in my hometown, Richmond. Scoot Richmond is hosting a victory BBQ and celebration.

There is a Mom to deal with, who has crossed her fingers anxiously for the past 195 days. After that, I’m off to Maine. Philip McCaleb was the first person I called today, once I reached the White House. He told me to step away from the scooter and let him ship it home. Sounds good to me, and a lot cheaper than riding the remaining 800 miles home.

On Saturday, I will film the final raffle drawing. That will go up by Sunday. I want to thank everyone for the tremendous support and encouragement which has kept me going. No one has done this before. Not on a 125cc scooter.

I could have gone around the world by now. Truly, while it makes me laugh to think of all the odds I’ve faced and overcome-I’m humbled. Humbled thinking about the people who are a part of this historical event-who’ve simeoultaneusly taught me and opened their minds.

The collective conscious is a powerful thing. Just yesterday I found out that a Japanese man is riding his bicycle around the U.S. He started, with a partner, on April 19, 2008. His goal? To write the word PEACE onto the U.S. map. If you understand Japanese, please, tell me what is happening in his blog!

It’s clear. Peace isn’t just back by popular demand, it never left, but it deserves the spotlight now more than ever.

Really, stay tuned. I’ll recap some spectacular events. The blog will be up for a long time. After all, I started the whole trip to find out how Americans define Peace-and I want to host a million definitions here.

Much Love to you

Vespa Arlington, ride leaves around 12pm on 08/08/08

3206 10th St N
Arlington, VA 22201
(703) 243-7700

BBQ and shenanigans, Scoot Richmond, 08/09/08 at 5pm  

217 W 7th St
Richmond, VA 23224
(804) 230-1000

Today I am headed out of Cleveland, towards Pittsburgh. But not without paying a visit to Kent State.

Friday, May 1At Kent State, a massive demonstration was held on May 1 on the Commons (a grassy knoll in the center of campus traditionally used as a gathering place for rallies or protests), and another had been planned for May 4. There was widespread anger, and many protesters issued a call to “bring the war home.” As a symbolic protest to Nixon’s decision to send troops, a group of about five hundred students watched a graduate student at Kent State burying a copy of the U.S. Constitution.

Trouble erupted in town at around midnight when intoxicated bikers[citation needed] left a bar and began throwing beer bottles at cars and breaking downtown store fronts. In the process they broke a bank window which set off an alarm. The news spread quickly and it resulted in several bars closing early to avoid trouble. Before long more people had joined the vandalism and looting, while others remained bystanders.

By the time police arrived, a crowd of about 100 had already gathered. Some people from the crowd had already lit a small bonfire in the street. The crowd appeared to be a mix of bikers, students, and out-of town youths who regularly came to Kent’s bars. A few members of the crowd began to throw beer bottles at the police, and then started yelling obscenities at them. The disturbance lasted for about an hour before the police restored order. By that time most of the bars were closed in the downtown area of Kent.
TO READ MORE, PLEASE FOLLOW LINK

I haven’t really been maintaining the blog recently. There is so much to tell, that sometimes, at the end of the day, if I don’t offer precise detail, I feel that I can’t do the day justice. Details can be difficult. I say-buy the book. I can promise LOTS of detail in that!

So where to start tonight?

Peace.

Peace is a strange thing in our country. I would love to offer you a global perspective, but I can only best relay to you what I have experience inour country.

This trip is amazing. First, I’ve talked about something relatively new to me. I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone. I haven’t gone around preaching. I’ve just started the conversation with thousands of Americans,by asking. “What does Peace MEAN to you?”

You know, Peace was something I’ve always proclaimed to want, but not something I had defined. Once I defined it, I had more of an awareness of how to work towards it. How to make deliberate actions.

I’ve experienced really warm moments with both believers and resistors. For the most part, I’ve noticed that those who earn a living and spend a lifetime working in the Peace or anti-war groups, have been relatively absent in this mission.

I think this trip rocks the boat. In fact, I know it does. I can’t begin to name off the long list of groups who have ignored my letters. And my requests have been simple.

Can we cross promote? Can you put a link to this project on your website? Can you tell your members so that they can leave their definiton fo Peace on the website? Can we do Peace demonstrations around the country?

Why the absence? I guess there is an equation, and it’s followed by corporations, non profits, social structures, and activists alike.

Said equation:

There is a chain of command. You have to follow it. People have worked hard to get where they are, and don’t want to be challenged. It’s threatening.

Often, people are more comfortable defining themselves by what they are NOT. Like anti war groups. They are working against the war. I prefer to say I am working for Peace.

There is a rampant US and THEM mentality that cripples people. However, many people are entrenched by the operating rules of the very system that they fight against.

If you combine those very basic treatises, the results yield groups whose internal rule structures prevent true progressive action.

This trip is maverick. It’s not really like anything else that’s ever been done. Sadly, most groups that I would have loved to coordinate with just don’t get it. What’s she on?

A scooter. Oh that’s easy.

What’s she doing?

Complaining about the war? Or the President?

NO. Oh, well, where is the controversy??

A group puts on a demonstration and people attend. The group often protests against something. A protest is recognized as successful by how many people attend and how much attention it generates. The most successful demonstrations are those that

A) Have a famous keynote speaker

B) Have a massive attendance

C) Get attention because there was a destructive element

D) Involve some sort of long, epic, Frodo type quest. LIke walking across the country. The March for Peace last year received A TON of support from liberals and the press.

When I set out to complete my dream, I believed in it so much that I thought we could escape these shallow, binary forms of thinking. Believed enough to sacrifice safety and comfort.

I’ve discovered the most important truth-at least I don’t have to remain beholden to that type of thinking. My own philosophies have been put to the test. I now know, with strong reassurances that I haven’t asked anyone to do anything more than I can do.

I have learned so much in my time on the road, from others. From people who will not wind up at a protest, who do not usually eat vegetarian or vegan, who do willingly shop at Wal-Mart, who think homosexuality is a sin, or who classically avoid conversation involving Peace. But they all in their hearts know and admit, that something JUST ain’t right in our country.

The responses are varied.

Some people think it’s a fine system, but people themselves are slovenly.

Some people think it’s a flawed system, but you just have to look out for yourself, enjoy the fruits of your labor and life goes on. Survival of the fittest. Totally detached.

Some people think it’s a corrupt system and judge others who don’t feel the same way as inferior.

I’ve had SO many conversations with people. But almost 95% of the time, the conversation GETS TO HAPPEN. I’ve come along way from holding a sign at a protest, loosing my voice-just desperately hoping to convince someone of the cause. Hmm. By yelling?

WHAT HAS IT COME DOWN TO?
Allowing the conversations to happen. NO JUDGEMENT. NO PREACHING. Authenticity. Showing, by example.

I guess to the people of America, they see one girl riding hard, really hard, hoping to raise awareness.

Those Peace groups that haven’t supported me-SHAME ON YOU.

I’ve reached the people- and that’s who you need. The ones scattered all over the country.

Because they are the ones who enable the real critical mass we need to move our country forward.

I’m not sure what’s after the P.E.A.C.E ride. Because I’m still on it. I wish I had more time to write-but I’m sleepy.

I want to leave you with a thanks. Thanks for those who are supporting this. To those who say you never thought of yourself as a Peace maker-but who took the time to define Peace. To those who said-how can I help you complete this trip. To those who have challenged me. To those who joined me on the road.

It’s our Peace sign on the map. Let’s keep it there.

Rally in Scooter 92